Exchange = Forevah. Content Is Jus' Crap.

*blub*

*sniff*

*honk*

Gotta tellya, Kay, I wellin' up with such tears of gratitood I stainin' my blouse with accidentally imbibed pollutants I nevah knew were inside me.

I gaht Mickey Mouse on my lapel, sum weirdsy mountain scene on my right cuff, an' a donkey chompin' on an avocado all ovah my boobies.

Correction: it is a kumquat.

Plus also the donkey usin' a straw bcs the kumquat been all mooshied up into a smoothie.

tbh I ain't been this happy since las' weekend.

An' by happy I mean I walked into a tree an' nevah bruised muh nose.

It is a miracle.

tbh, I considah all mushrooms to be weird.

With pizza, you know what you gettin'.

With mules, you know precisely what they do.

But funghi is jus' plain crazy.

An' here is where the madness trooly begins.

Before you know it, you readin' an article entitled


"How amazin'," you muttah as you sit down to waste precious minutes of your life to read this garbage. "Why, I thought there were only 4!"

Then you'll watch 10 spurious points zip past your eyeballs as your deathbed rolls toward you from the fyootyore, snappin' blankets to mattress like REAL HUGE CHOMPERS hungry for your precious mortality.

As Harvard citations sync with pure wahooey, your knowledge of the world's glories will surely swell to the point of maxo inconsequence.

An' when you reach the concloosion (some variation on the theme of Yurp, mushrooms are weird), you can rise afresh from your sofa, john, or unused noose, an' greet an increasingly moronic world with the cheery grin of a similar kinda moron.

See, bcs next day at work, you an' Al an' Marcie an' Jim an' Babette can waste even more time discussin' mushrooms steada dowin' their jobs.

"I laughed so much when I took in point 6 about how so many mushrooms resemble breasts," says Al.

"Aw, hey," Marcie adds with a guffaw, "breasts balanced on feeble organic sticks almost technically unable to support them!"

Jim rolls round on the floor till his sides groan in agony. "Breasts that can bust through concrete like Iron Man decking Thanos with a single punch!"

"Hey, listen guys," says Babette. "The Waldorf Astoria just went up in flames. Maybe we should set aside our faux enthusiasm for mushroom weirdness and go do the firefighter thing ..."

Aw, see, bcs now we gaht


No serious heart transplant is complete without the med team quittin' with the life-savin' scalpels to debate fractal gill structure an' amazingly evolved spore distribution methods.

"For God's sake! Pass me the defibrillator!"

"Is that the Latin name for button mushrooms or portabello mushrooms? *snort* Hey, whatever: they both look like BOOBIES."

An' what 'bout life an' death up there in the NASA Spacestation?

"Uhm. Don't want to worry anyone, but where's Al?"

"I believe we sent him out to check the exterior of the station before we got to discussing whether mushrooms bruise, blemish, or simply discolor."

"That was 4 weeks ago."

"Yeah, and we still haven't decided about the mushrooms."

Ha!

I could go on, but I gotta fix my hair for yogah.

Mebbe a sootably inane AI copy bot could take a sniff through this post an' generate a zillion mushroom-related Top Ten Weirdsy facts articles.

For sure Gordon Ramsay's brain needs fillin' up with sumthin' ...

A trooly select groop proved they ADORE MY ASS.

If'n that ain't no bar to aspire to, I gotta go find musself the slurpsiest ol' cocktail evah.

(Course'n, I will do so anyways, but it is so cool to have accomplices.)

Thought exercise: diminish every plateau in that way crazy line an' see where it getsya.

Kinda ...

A trooly select groop proved they LIKE MY ASS.

A select groop are highly likely to ADORE MY FACE.

(I dun 3 here, kinda prolapse style.)

Anywan may possibly NOTICE.

See how I drahped the bar right down?

As an uncontainable colossus, what kinda inflooence you gaht here?

An' who cares?

What kinda content is of value to absolootely evrywan who ain't lookin' for nuthin'?

Viewed THUSSO, you gotta see the AI-enhanced ejaculation of broad-hook content is kinda public domain spam gonna re-educate our puke reflexes.

Remain vigilant!

Do naht chomp easy on the fodder of morons!

Hey, plus also do naht write that kinda schwango!

Like Gary Snyder said,

"either we are the agents of our own miraculature, or we are the trash cans of our own stupidity. But perhaps this train of thought can wait for a moment because I am being momentarily savaged by a frickin' bear."